The Aurors and their Issues
by MarigoldStevens
Summary: "Why did you hire her?" "Because we need some intelligence around here, no matter if it comes with a daily dose of sneers and insults." Hiring Astoria Greengrass comes with more paperwork, headaches, and Draco Malfoy than Harry cares for. Canon pairings.
1. Cyan candy and Interviews

**I'm back! Okay, so I'm working on Teddy's Visit, promise, and I'm currently taking a break from Loyalties. But I had to write this down. **

**Disclaimer: If I was J.K. Rowling, Draco would have full, luscious hair at the end and I would have included Astoria throughout the books. **

Harry James Potter was head of the Auror department, and bloody well tired of it. Today he hadn't been given stacks of paperwork with those tiny little lines and loopholes and agreements "initial here" stickers everywhere. No. Today had consisted of ...interviews.

"But sir," he'd protested, "I'm head of the department. Can't we get someone a little," he leaned down his head, looking up over his glasses, "lower on the ladder, so to say, to do such things?" he wasn't proud of it, and those "lower on the ladder" would have wrung his neck if they had heard, but he'd be damned if he spent the better part of his day asking awkward strange questions to awkward strange people. Kingsley did not agree.

"Potter, since you'll be showing whoever's hired the ropes anyway, I think it's best if you go ahead and make sure you approve," Harry opened his mouth, prepared to beg, plead, but then Kingsley raised the Eyebrow, and he was dismissed before the appropriate amount of butt-kissing could commence.

Which is exactly how he got stuck interviewing exactly 23 applicants, complete with 16 Nos, 3 Frankly-They-Freak-Me-Out-So-Nos, 2 Who-Let-These-People-Into-The-Building-Nos, 1 I-Think-Voldemort-And-Bellatrix's-Secret-Love-Child-Just-Tried-To-Infiltrate-The-Ministry-Quick-Call-Kingsley-No, and one who hadn't shown up yet.

Harry sighed, dumping out the contents of his candy dish onto his desk, starting to organize the little hard candies (he was far to cheap for good new candy, besides, Ron needed to stop sneaking sweets anyway before Hermonie got on another health kick, so he was really helping, suffering in silence with cheap dusty candies so his best mate wouldn't be starved on soy milk and carrots) by color. He shuddered, trying to clear his memories of the last applicant.

"So Kandy, how would you rate your experience in dealing with the dark arts?" The voluptuous brunette bit her lip, pearing through dark lashes.

"I'd say I'm...well practiced in dealing with...dark things," she whispered throatily. "I can show you, if you want," she winked, giggling as Harry turned the color of his wife's hair. His wife who would have had a whiplash if she was there. After cursing Kandy Kane and Harry if the feeling possessed her, of course.

But at least she wasn't "Mr. B.", who kept trying to sell him a silver bullet necklace that was emitting suspicious green smoke, insisting it would save his life. Maybe Mr. wasn't so accurate, seeing as though the hood was pulled so low that he wasn't quite sure if it was "Mr." or "Mrs.". And he felt better off not knowing. Knowing would mean researching which would mean writing which led to paperwork. Everything in the bloody Ministry led to paperwork. Everything.

"Mr. Potter?" he looked up from sorting the cyan candies (he was quite sure they contained some sort of muggle drug) to see a young girl with big green eyes and messy black hair. Maybe she'd also have a mass murderer who'd try to kill her since she was a baby and a redheaded best friend with an irrational fear of spiders.

"Yes, come in. Are you," he paused, glancing down at the list on his desk-" Ms. Astoria Greengrass?" she nodded, closing the door behind her. Her dress was blue and far too expensive looking, but not to an indecent level. Dainty little heels, but not too high and strappy. No fur, no sequins. More of a stuffy pureblood type, less a Kandy Kane repeat. "So," she settled herself down in the chair, pursing her lips and already looking bored, "tell me about yourself," this was the trick part, of course. He didn't really care if they had a fetish for feet or were allergic to raspberries, and telling those little personal details only got you farther and farther over the Freak line. So far, 22 applicants had went way over the Freak line by the end of the interview.

"Slytherin," _oh great. We already have Zabini lounging around for no apparent reason, now we have another one_ ,"Two years younger than you. Younger sister to Daphne Greengrass," Harry's knowledge of Daphne Greengrass was a, erm, developed figure, a bit to friendly with the male population, ditzy, and far too nice for Slytherin. Dumbly nice, but nice none the less. "- and total opposite of her, thank Merlin.," _agreed_ ,"Practice in the Dark Arts? I spent most of my childhood surrounded by Deatheaters, Mr. Potter.," _suspected as much_ ,"I stuck away and fought in the Battle at Hogwarts.," Now that was surprising... "Favorite color? Blue. I like to take long walks on the beach," _okay, now she's just being a smart alec_ ," and read poetry in my spare time," she deadpanned. "Is that enough?" she smirked. Harry blinked, not quit sure what to do with all this information.

"Erm, why do you want to be an Auror?" he stammered. She looked thoughtful for a moment, tapping her dainty chin.

"What else am I suppose to be?" she smirked again. _A question in reply to a question. That smirk. Didn't even have to tell me she was a Slytherin_ Harry thought darkly as she sighed.

"So, Mr. Potter," something about the way she said it in such a mocking tone was familiar..."Did I get the job?" Harry blinked again. Did she? She was a hell of a lot better than Kandy, Mr(s).B, and "the Love Child", but did he really want to work with such a rude little sarcastic person day in and day out?

Suddenly, a loud bang shook his office. "Ron! Give me my bloody peppermint back! NOW!" a shrill shriek, then silence. She raised her eyebrow at him.

"It's yours," he said suddenly before he could change his mind. She smirked. _Ah, well, maybe we'll have some intelligence in this department now._

"I look forward to working with you, Mr. Potter," she shook his hand, then stood. Harry's eyebrows furrowed, then he stood up.

"Astoria," he called as she was walking out the door.

"Yes?" she asked, evidently impatient, ready to go do something more important.

"You don't happen to ah, know Draco Malfoy, do you?" her eyes widened just the tiniest bit before they narrowed.

"No, he's one of Daphne's friends," she sneered, "Why?"

"No reason. Have a good night," she quickly walked away, leaving Harry to drug candy and paperwork to fill out.

**It gets better, I promise. review?**


	2. Coffee

**I can update all the time if I put my mind to it. And if my teachers stop giving me homework. But okay, this is kinda a filler chapter, but then again it's neccessary. The next one will have more action. Hopefully. Thanks to my reviewers: Draconator, Armacryss, JumpUpAndDown, rainbowspring, lolchika21, and crazy's wat i aim 4**

**Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling. I swear on my Lord of the Rings box set. That's legit, man.**

Everyone who worked at the Ministry had issues. But the Aurors in particular.

Kimberly Stark was a half-blood, Ravenclaw, and don't you forget it. When she walked in with blond curls, big blue eyes, and teeny tiny hands, Harry had seriously doubted her abilities. Then, on her way out, Ron had accidentally tripped her. Ron made a second trip to St. Mungo's that week (after that nasty dark wizard in France with the serious eye twitch and a grudge). Harry hired her on the spot. Ever since, Ron was convinced she was "out to get him". Harry denied it, only because she was so bloody good. But he really knew that from the moment her flat caught on Ron's stack of neglected paperwork and her delicate nose smashed against the carpet, she had been out to make Ron's life a living hell.

Norman Guizot was muggle born, Hufflepuff, with a knack for making things explode or disappear (he reminded Harry of Seamus, except more accident-prone, less deliberate about what exactly he was blowing up). He was tall and gangly, with floppy brown hair and a permanently sheepish expression on his face. It was no secret that he fancied Kimberly, but she paid no mind to it, seeing as he didn't even have the guts to come up and talk to her. It was quite entertaining to see him stutter through small talk about the weather, only for Kimberly to stick her little nose in the air and flounce off to spill ink on Ron's papers or hide his stapler, which of course only made Norman more entranced by her. Harry had decided long ago that the only reason Norman hadn't been fired for setting the office kitchen on fire (twice in one week) was because he provided a great source of amusement whenever he (attempted) to talk to Ms. Stark. That, and he could make delicious banana bread that he loved to share (kiss up. But Harry didn't mind all that much, honestly).

Blaise Zabini was not an Auror, but might as well have been. No one was quite sure what Blaise was to be honest. All they knew was that he was always popping up in the department, taking the last mug of coffee and lurking around. Harry had complained to Kingsley numerous times, all to which he got something along the lines of "he's trying to find himself, Potter. He's lost after Hogwarts, he never had people there to guide him as you did. Give him time,". Time to what exactly? Get the bloody hell out of there and stop taking Harry's new triple-hole punch? Kingsley didn't verify that bit there. Not to mention there was always _girls_ hanging around as well, flirting and putting on lipstick and spraying perfume and _giggling_. Oh Merlin, the giggling. It made Kimberly's eye twitch dangerously, her wand clutched in her hand. But all it took was one sly grin from Zabini and Kimberly would smile. A genuine smile, not an evil, I-Just-Ruined-Weasley's-Day-Mwhahahaha smile. So naturally, Norman despised him as well.

Ron Weasley was Ron Weasley. Harry didn't feel the need to think to long about Ron, the only one who's sanity wasn't in question. He had decided Ron was quite insane some time ago. He was Harry's partner, and the only one he wasn't stressed about. If he stressed about Ron, that in itself would drive him bald. No, stressing about Ron was Hermonie's job, and Harry was happy to leave her to it. Besides, he liked having hair.

Astoria Greengrass was the mystery. Sarcastic, snippy, and all around a Slytherin to the core. Black curly hair, big green eyes, and a tiny figure always dressed perfectly led other wizards from other departments to leave flowers on her desks, ask her out for lunch; staring with googly love struck eyes, even as she turned them down. Every single time. But working in the Ministry must give single, desperate wizards some type of "never give up" mantra, as they were persistent. As was she. As the flowers got more exotic and the stench of cologne around her desk grew to headache-inducing levels, she went from snippy snarky Sally to all-around rude Rhonda.

"For the last time," Astoria was gritting her teeth, glaring at Carl Sideman, who was wearing a tie with fish and a dopey grin, "N-O. No!" Kimberly was snickering as she poured pepper and vomit flavored jellybeans into Ron's candy dish (what was with Auror's and their candy dishes?). Norman looked up wistfully, throwing a longing glance towards her. Ron was in the break room, looking for something to eat. And Blaise was lounging on the couch, telling stories of his youth, with Ellie the intern giggling and playing with his tie.

"Does anyone do anything around here that's even slightly productive?" Harry raked his fingers through his hair, sighing loudly.

"I contribute my part, mate. No need to worry about me," Blaise called, taking a sip from his blue coffee mug. Scratch that, _Harry's_ blue coffee mug. He could feel an eye twitch coming on.

"You! Get out! You don't even work here!" Blaise pouted, then stood up, letting Ellie fall over. She stood up and marched out, poking out her ruby red lips.

"Well then. See everyone tomorrow. Ron," Blaise called toward the break room. "Bloody Hell that's hot!" Ron screeched, the smell of burnt cheese and...waffle cones? wafting out of the doorway. Blaise rolled his eyes, then nodded at Kimberly.

"Kimberly," he said, grinning. She smiled, popping a jellybean into her mouth. "Ick!" she coughed. "Grass!" her nose wrinkled up in disdain. Blaise turned toward Astoria.

"Greeeengrassss," he purred. She rolled her eyes. "Hey, don't be so rude. I happen to have talked to you know who today," he winked at her. Her head snapped up.

"Did he say anything?" she asked. Blaise nonchalantly checked his nails (how disturbing Harry thought).

"Just that he...misses the sound of your voiceeee," he winked again. Astoria rolled her eyes, losing interest. Harry was getting more confused by the minute. Voldemort missed the sound of Astoria's voice? How odd.

Suddenly, then both looked up, noticing Harry. "I best be going," Zabini said nervously. Astoria hissed something at him. "Don't be such a worrywart Greengrass. It doesn't suit you," he walked past Harry, nodding and taking a sip of coffee. "Potter, always a pleasure," he smiled pleasantly.

Harry sighed with relief. Kimberly might kill Ron anyday now, Norman might set the whole place on fire, and Astoria apparently was contacting ghosts of Dark Lords and having intimate conversations with them. But at least Blaise was gone. For the hour, at least.

"Hey!" Harry blinked. "That was my cup!" he shouted down the hall.

**Go ahead and review, we all know you want to.**


	3. Radio

**So, I wrote this last night at 3 a.m. on my sugar high, woke up this morning, and decided to publish it. So don't blame me, blame the caffeine-induced insomnia. Thanks to all my reviewers, and to my Biology teacher, for being extra awesome and not giving us weekend homework.**

**And please excuse me if some of the music I mention in the story isn't right with the time, I'll try my best to keep up with it. Just remember, this story takes place a few years after the Battle at Hogwarts.**

**Disclaimer: Hold on, let me check...nope, nope, definitely not J.K. Rowling. Sorry to disappoint. Now read and review. **

Everyone had annoying habits. Ginny liked to tell Harry about his in great detail. "And I nearly snapped my neck in two. What a fright it gave me, when my feet whooshed out from under me. Thought I was a goner!" she said with too much enjoyment when talking about her alleged near death experience. And she loved to tell the bloody story to every bloody person possible. And honestly, who didn't stack their papers on the floor because their desk was too crowded? Besides, it was his at-home-office, and everything was organized. Really. It wasn't his fault the woman couldn't watch where she was stepping.

Besides, Ginny had more than her far share of less-than-desirable qualities. For instance, thinking that every bloody room in the house she walked into needed the light to be kept on for the rest of the week. Their electric bill would have cleared half of his Gringott's account in a month flat, had they hadn't regularly obliviated that pesky little man that came knocking at the door whenever they didn't pay within 6 months. Muggles.

But Harry quickly realized he did not firmly grasp the concept of "pet peeves" until he became an Auror.

"Ms. Stark, I would just like to thank you and the rest of the Aurors _so_ much for arresting my ex-neighbor, Phil. I was always _so_ worried letting the children go out and play, and I just _knew_ something was wrong with that man since he moved in 8 years ago. He had that _awful_ shirt, and you can tell a great amount about a person by their clothing preferences, you know..." Kimberly insisted upon reading every letter and memo she recieved. Every. Single. Bloody. Letter.

"Do you have to read every sentence out loud?" Ron snapped, Kimberly didn't even glance up. Apparently, yes, every sentence must be read. As well as reading the reply as she wrote it out.

"I quite agree with you, Mrs. Wimbly. For instance, my co worker is wearing this ahem, loud patterned shirt today, as well as black socks and brown shoes," Harry checked Ron's footwear. Black socks, brown shoes, horrible tropical patterned shirt; sweet Merlin where had Hermione been while Ron was getting dressed this morning? She needed to monitor him more closely. "The shirt clearly yells out for attention, which he desperately craves, and the clashing of the socks and shoes speak of a horrible condition in which oxygen doesn't flow to his brain properly. It's quite sad, really. Poor bloke can't do much of anything right, honestly..." Ron's wand hand had been twitching quite spectacularly.

Norman Guizot wasn't as sneaking and purposeful in his annoying-ness as Kimberly, who all around knew very well what she was doing and did it with an evil flourish, which made it worse. "I'm really sorry Harry," his thumbs were twiddling together nervously as he bit his lip, watching as Harry patiently waved his wand at the break room table, muttering cleaning spells, "it won't happen again, I swear,". _Oh, but it will _Harry had thought, simply nodding in a "that's quite alright!" sort of way. The problem was, Norman insisted on not using a coaster. Not just once. But every time he got a drink. Which was every five minutes. Harry commonly found half-empty cans and bottles littered about, in a trail from the break room to Norman's desk, scattered on every available surface in between. All leaving behind this unholy dark ring that no magic known to wizard could get out, making Harry's eye twitch almost to the point of no return every time he passed one. Which was every five minutes.

But Astoria had to take the cake. "Can you please turn it down?" Norman looked over at her desk. She blinked innocently.

"What?" sneaky as Salazar himself, she was, her little hand darting out to turn the volume knob up.

"CAN-YOU-TURN-THE-MUSIC-DOWN?" Astoria's eyes narrowed dangerously. Harry cursed the day she had found the battered Muggle radio.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Ron whined. Astoria scoffed.

"Britney Spears. Can't you feel the emotions in the song?" No. No, the only emotion Harry could feel was worry for his poor ears.

"I can't take it Harry. I can't. Fix it," Ron demanded, hands tugging at his flaming red hair, as if to clog his ears with the stuff to drown out the shrill singing blaring from Astoria's desk. She was humming along, the wench.

"I don't want to intrude or anything, and she's really quite nice really, it's just, well, I can't concentration. But I mean, she can still play it," Norman was fiddling with his tie, flustered, "just..a tad...less..loud would be nice,".

"I'm going to throttle her," Harry appreciated Kimberly's directness. Violent, but direct none the less. "And that's a problem. Because she's one of the only people in the whole Ministry who I can stand. Just not when that blasted radio's on!"

Harry's golden solution came in a bout of inspiration brought on by butterbeer and lack of sleep. There was a recently emptied spare room in their department now, and he had been planning on having all of them write exactly why they each deserved it as their office. But if he just had them vote...

"Astoria," Kimberly answered immediately. "Under normal circumstances I would have said myself, of course," she explained smoothly, "but this is a grave situation Harry, and you can't refuse such as obvious solution.

"That bloody radio!" Ron demanded. "and I guess Astoria will just follow the thing in there, so it'll officially be her office.." he mused to himself.

"I-I think Astoria. I mean, not that Kimberly doesn't _deserve_ it, Merlin no, it's just, well..." Norman grinned sheepishly.

So as Harry had just announced the news to a bored-looking and mildly suspicious Astoria, who was busy moving her things into it, he strode into the break room, grinning broadly. Until he saw something sitting at the table that wiped the grin off his face. "Malfoy?" Draco's eyes snapped up to meet Harry's.

"Oh Potter. Fancy seeing you here," he drawled. Harry blinked.

"Fancy meeting _me_ here? Malfoy, this is my department!"

"And?" Draco stared at him as if had gone mad, running his fingers through his platinum hair. It unnerved Harry. Draco Malfoy was an Unspeakable, working on..well, that's the thing. Harry didn't know what he was working on, what he did, where he was at. He had only seen Malfoy in passing, and in Witch Weekly, when Ginny showed him one of the articles (_"Oh, look Harry! Says here Draco Malfoy is the number one most eligible bachelor of the year!" "Look, says Draco Malfoy is giving half his inheritance to the poor! Look how marvelous!"_ alas, another pet peeve his wife was very aware of) And that was just fine.

"Why are you here?" Malfoy opened his mouth to answer, the beginnings of a sneer etching itself onto his face, but didn't get the chance to.

"Draco! Wait, Harry?" Harry whirled around to face Astoria, whose eyes were wide as saucers. "What are you doing here?" she asked ,still looking at Harry.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? This is my department! My break room!" Harry snapped. They both stared at him now.

"Well I guess I'll be going to finish straightening up my new office now..." Astoria was backing away slowly, as if he would snap and start throwing curses everywhere. "Harry," she nodded. "Draco," a nod, a-wait, was that a _smile_? Not a sneer, but a smile? Directed towards _Malfoy_? No, no, trick of the light, Harry told himself. Must be.

"I'll be leaving as well. Potter," Malfoy gave him a curt nod, "Astoria," was it just Harry, or did he say Astoria's name with a little too much..._feeling_? And now Malfoy was giving Astoria a smile in return! The world had gone mad! It had-no no, the lights again.

"Someone needs to hurry up and fix the bloody lights," Harry muttered, staring at the ceiling.

** Reviews,anyone?**


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